


Shattered

by Poetry



Series: Dæmorphing [25]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Alien Culture, Andalites, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Disability, Fantastic Racism, M/M, Slow Romance, Stand Alone, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/pseuds/Poetry
Summary: How Mertil and Gafinilan fought each other, gardened together, shared a secret, and fell in love.A canon-compliant standalone story that also fits into Dæmorphing continuity.
Relationships: Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad/Mertil-Iscar-Elmand
Series: Dæmorphing [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/8983
Comments: 56
Kudos: 86
Collections: Animorphs Mini Bang 2020





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to @crowlesdraws and @litluminary for beta reading, and to @joysweeper for helping me come up with sexy sea Gafinilan.
> 
> Attributions for the banner: the Courier Prime font is by Alan Dague-Greene, and the shattered glass icon is by [Olena Panasovska](https://thenounproject.com/zzyzz/).
> 
> @auroboroch and @crowlesdraws made art to accompany the story. @auroboroch's [beautiful art of Mertil and Gafinilan](https://auroboroch.tumblr.com/post/625590052983111680/hey-i-had-the-wonderful-opportunity-to) and @crowlesdraws's [imaginative interpretation of an Andalite myth](https://c-rowlesdraws.tumblr.com/post/625647969147961344/when-the-last-age-ended-and-our-age-dawned-the) in the story. I made a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3HzWIdLaozvQC90lsYorov?si=437T7Ns8T0mdKpvo52FP4Q) for the story as well.
> 
> Content notes: internalized ableism, racism toward fictional alien cultures, discussion of terminal illness.

**Prologue: Two Myths** ****

One day, in the gentle times to come, when the hunters are defeated and the blue grass grows everywhere under the sun, there will be two youths whose Guide Trees grow in the same grove. They will go there on the same day to see the first great flowering of their Guide Trees and collect the blooms for garlands.

As he weaves the dark, pollen-heavy blooms of his Guide Tree into a fantastic web of garlands, Gallop-hearts will see that Steady-steps makes only simple chains of his little white flowers, and clumsily stitched at that. It will inflame his pride to see this, but of course he must not touch the chains to correct them. Instead, he will bedeck himself in his elaborate garlands and approach Steady-steps. He will hold his tail high and his main eyes steady and say, «You dishonor your Tree and this entire grove with your disgraceful weaving. You should not have come here with untrained hands. I challenge you to a duel, to cleanse the shame you have brought here. Accept my challenge, if you have any honor.»

«You are right,» Steady-steps will say, his flower chains coming undone across his shoulders. He will lower his tail so the blade touches the petal-strewn earth. «I have brought disgrace here. But it is all mine. I decline your challenge, and accept the dishonor onto myself. Better this, than to shed blood in the soil of my Guide Tree.»

Gallop-hearts’ pride will burn again, for secretly he will wish to prove himself in combat against the clumsy-fingered Steady-steps. They will leave the grove, and the state of their garlands will proclaim the state of their honor, to which Gallop-hearts will add the tale of how Steady-steps would not erase his shame. But when they return next season to the grove, Gallop-hearts’ tree will be bare, and Steady-steps’ tree will blaze with little white flowers, sticky with sweet-smelling nectar.

When the last age ended and our age dawned, the Ixilan were lost within ourselves, dreaming. It was not an evil thing, to dream, but we dreamed for so long we forgot what the world outside ourselves was like, each of us wandering a solitary island.

Balinoor, a split-hearted daughter-son of the last age, tested the boundaries of themself. They explored the inside of themself and learned where they ended. In this way, they learned their own shape, that one end of their body tapered to a sharp point. They shaped their own spirit to take this form, too, abandoning the ever-shifting form of a dream. For a long time, they tested their new form, stretching the spirit-legs, honing the spirit-blade.

Then, they swung their spirit-tail back and split the boundary of their body with their blade, shattering it from the inside. And through the many cracks, the light of the world came in.

Balinoor stuck their spirit-stalk-eyes through the cracks they had made, opening their inner self to the outer world. They saw the sun and the sea, the calls of circling sky-creatures – and they saw the other Ixilan, closed-off, dreaming.

Seeing this, Balinoor understood what it meant to be a body in the world, and there was no longer any divide between their dreaming spirit and their body. It was all one, and they reached out with the voice of their mind to the Ixilan: «AWAKEN!»

The Ixilan woke from our dreams all at once, leaping with joy at the beauty of being a body in the world. Balinoor could not leap with them, for they were hobbled by the wounds they had broken open in themself. But the Ixilan blessed their wounds, for they were the cracks that had let the light in.

**I.**

The day had finally come for my very first real tail-fighting class.

I had been swinging my tail at _derrishoul_ plants ever since my blade first grew in. I sparred with my parents and watched every exhibition fight by Ajaht-Litsom-Esth, trying to replicate what I saw in the holos. When my parents quietly scrubbed my medical records so I could enter the academy, I redoubled my efforts, eager to prove myself. I was ready.

Our instructor was Sofor-Corain-Elfarad, a veteran of the Hork-Bajir conflict. He looked over us with his scarred, fearsome face, and said, «The curriculum I have been given by the academy tells me I must begin by teaching you the basic strikes. But I know that every single one of you has tried the basic strikes already, so I won’t waste your time. I will pair you off to spar so I can watch you puffed-up little children at work, and see just how much sense I’ll have to whip into you.»

Sofor moved through the class, pairing us off. I was already shoving playfully at my friend Vetifer-Vilu-Orrill, the son of my mother’s _shorm_ , trying to knock him off balance with the side of my tail. But Sofor did not pair me with Vetifer. He gestured for me to follow him and led me to a fluffy, pale Andalite nearly his own size. «But Sofor,» I protested, «shouldn’t I fight another _aristh_? I cannot win against a full warrior.»

«I have yet to see whether you can win against a baby _djabala_ ,» Sofor scoffed. «This is _Aristh_ Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad. Show him whatever you’ve tried on your own reflection, child.»

I cross-referenced the second and third names in my mind. Neither the _djesculi_ nor the _schwescor_ was familiar. He must be from some remote outpost.

Gafinilan was big for an _aristh_. He looked strange, like no Andalite I had ever seen before. I just stood there, staring at him for a moment, until I finally registered the oily shine in his fur and the pungent woody smell rising from him. I blurted out, «You’re an Ixilan.»

The Ixilan stared at me as if I were very stupid. Feeling that I had a right to be confused, I said, «Ixilan don’t go to the academy,» and examined him for some sign that this was all a practical joke.

Suddenly, the world spun on its axis, and I found myself lying on my side in the grass with Gafinilan looming over me. Somewhere in my mind, I heard Sofor laughing.

«I do,» Gafinilan said, very calmly, and did not help me back to my feet.

**II.**

I avoided Gafinilan after that first disaster of a fight, too embarrassed to even look at him sideways with a stalk eye. Vetifer assured me that it wasn’t fair – he was freakishly large, of course he would have the advantage of me. But I knew that I had lost because of my own weakness.

It was not possible to avoid my classmate forever. 

The time came for our first flight simulation exercises. We had all toured different models of fighter and learned about their operation in class. Now it was time for us to attempt a scenario we might encounter in the future as pilots. I reported to Flight Simulator 5, and found Gafinilan already there, studying the mock controls. He spared only a stalk eye for me when I entered. « _Aristh_ Mertil.»

« _Aristh_ Gafinilan,» I said, drawing myself up to seem more confident than I felt. «I will be the pilot, and you will take weapons.»

Gafinilan voiced no objections to the secondary position. He did not mention the fight. He showed no expression at all. His fur glistened with fresh oil and filled the confined space with a sharp woody smell. Already Vetifer and others called him Stinker in private thought-speech, though the smell was pleasant enough.

«Will you wear that substance when you are a warrior serving on board a ship?» I said.

«I will do as my prince orders me, I expect,» Gafinilan said, serene. 

All the lights in the simulator came on. The computer announced, «Assume your positions, _arisths_.»

I stood with my knees slightly bent, ready to absorb any shock of impact. My hands rested lightly on the controls. On screen, I saw ship contacts blossom into view. I aimed my sensors. The ships were unfamiliar, not like any design I had learned about in class thus far. They flew rapidly in our direction. 

My hand went to the comms panel. «Hailing unknown ships,» I said. «Identify yourselves.»

No response. The ships kept flying closer at astonishing speed. I opened the comm channel again. «I repeat, identify yourselves. Or we will have to take immediate action.»

Again, no response. I brought the ship around for a firing pattern. «Gafinilan, open fire!»

«No,» he said.

I jerked both of my stalk eyes toward him. «What? I am your pilot! FIRE!»

«Observe the star pattern,» Gafinilan said. «We are not in Andalite space. Those are not Andalite ships, nor Yeerk, as far as we can tell. They have taken no offensive action toward us. We have no right to force them to identify themselves. I will not fire.»

«This is a flight simulation,» I snarled helplessly, as the contacts on screen moved ever closer. «We are in training to fight in a war. This is an exercise in whether we can defeat the enemy. We cannot stand here and do nothing.»

«If I receive a failing grade because I refuse to act, then so be it,» Gafinilan said. «It is not correct for me to fire on the unknown ships, and it will not be correct unless they initiate combat.»

«You are sabotaging me!» I cried. «You wish me to fail because you despise me. Let me use the weapon station. I can do both!»

«No,» said Gafinilan, blocking the controls from my grasp. 

I snorted in sheer frustration and struck. Nothing intended to seriously hurt, but a blow at his legs to knock him over. He blocked me just in time and forced my tail back. Then he kicked out at me with his front legs, forcing me backward.

No. This time I would not lose. Gafinilan had the reach on me in normal circumstances, but this was a confined space. His longer tail was of no use to him here. My agility was. I danced around him, aiming many rapid blows from as many angles as I could manage. A few landed, making him flinch with the stinging, sideways glances. He aimed a _torf_ at my head, and I ducked underneath. My blood sang in my veins. Gafinilan had only won because I had been gawping at him like a curious infant. He was not my obvious superior. We were _well-matched._

BOOOOMMM!

The flight simulator rumbled with a massive hit, and the lights all went dark. The door to the simulator hissed open, and the instructor came in. «That was an utter disaster,» he began. «How did you fail to notice – » The lights came back on, and he saw the two little cuts in Gafinilan’s flank, and our alert tail-fighting stances. «What is the meaning of this! We are not in tail-fighting class!»

« _Aristh_ Gafinilan refused to participate in the exercise,» I said indignantly. «He refused my orders!»

«So you _attacked_ him? If I didn’t know any better, I would have said _you_ were the barbarian, Mertil, not him. Gafinilan, what happened here?»

« _Aristh_ Mertil told me to fire upon the unknown ships,» Gafinilan said. «According to what I have learned, the order was in violation of Andalite and interspecies law, so I refused.»

«And then they fired,» I said hotly, «and we lost!»

«Mertil, look at the screen,» the instructor said. I finally remembered the screen – I had been so absorbed in my fight with Gafinilan I had forgotten to monitor what was happening in the simulation. There was a new contact on the screen: a repurposed Nahara ship used by Yeerk forces. «It was cloaked. The unidentified ships were a distraction. I see you will need a great deal of further instruction, Mertil-Iscar-Elmand. _Aristh_ Gafinilan, well done. You may leave.»

After the instructor was done reaming me out, I caught up with Gafinilan. «I challenge you to a duel on the practice grounds.»

«I decline your challenge,» Gafinilan said.

«On what grounds?»

Gafinilan lowered his tail and spread his arms. «I do not know the formalisms you use in the Great Gardens. The Ixilan do not duel. All I know is that I do not wish to fight you, Mertil-Iscar-Elmand.»

My eye stalks stretched upward in surprise. «You do not wish to know who would have won the fight?»

«No,» Gafinilan said, already walking away. «I have nothing to prove.»

I watched his retreating figure, his oiled fur gleaming in the sun, and realized to my mingled amazement and horror that I had not acted bravely. I was Gallop-hearts, whose impetuous pride had been foretold, and Gafinilan was Steady-steps, too wise to invite violence where it did not belong. Not a single one of the eligible and attractive young Andalites of the Great Gardens my parents had introduced to me had even a fraction of the Ixilan’s integrity, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

**III.**

I had a scheduled holo-call with my parents every five days. We had to time it carefully, as the academy was many time zones away from Langor, where my parents had moved their scoop after they sent me off to the academy. I set up the holo-projector in the marshy bend of an elbow-crook lake, whispering with tall water-grasses, which I thought they might find aesthetically pleasing.

My parents had also set up their holo-projector in a scenic location: the edge of a sandstone cliff characteristic of arid Langor. The ground was arranged as a dry garden, with gravel raked in precise swirls around prickly bushes. «How do you fare, Mertil?» my mother said. 

«I am well, mother. How are you?»

My father launched into a lengthy story about her charm offensive on their new neighbors in Langor, who included a Shredder engineer and a couple with «the loveliest boy your age, Mertil, a morph dancer, so talented, you _must_ meet him when you come back to visit.»

«Ah,» I said. «Before we begin with – ah – people I should meet – I have a question. Pertaining to that.»

My parents became very alert. «Oh?» said Father.

«You said I might meet a potential spouse or _shorm_ while I was at the academy,» I said. «What must I do in redress if I have done something to offend such a – a person?»

«Who is it?» said Mother, studying me as if she could read the truth in the line of my tail.

It was only then that it occurred to me that it would be very shocking indeed if I were to claim a close association with an Ixilan. Before the academy, I had never even met an Andalite who did not claim descent from the Great Gardens. «At this time I would prefer not to say.»

«Mertil! You tell us everything!» Mother said, eyestalks high with shock.

Father pressed a gentling hand to the back of Mother’s head. «Soon he will gather the first blooms of his Guide Tree, and soon after that he will graduate and be a full warrior. Let him have his privacy.»

I flinched at the mention of Dana Korra. I wasn’t sure how much I believed in the stories-to-come, but if they were true, Dana Korra would never flower unless I fixed my error with Gafinilan.

«But surely you will advise us of any major life developments,» Mother said to me.

«Of course, Mother. But neither of you have answered my question.»

«I remember when I offended Anthrel’s _shorm_ ,» Father said, «by disrupting her children’s study schedules whenever she left them here for us to watch over while she traveled to Enilon to visit her Guide Tree. I designed new study planners and a program of focusing music for them, then presented myself to Theredrin for the forgiveness ritual.»

«How did that work out?» I said.

Mother said, «She told your father that Vetifer required absolute silence for his studies and they did not require new planners, but she nonetheless appreciated the recognition of the harm she had done with her lax child-minding. She was forgiven.»

I always think more clearly if I have someone with whom I can discuss my ideas, so I brought up the subject with Vetifer later while we fed together. «Do you believe that Gafinilan has suffered harm because of my belligerence toward him in class?»

Vetifer scoffed. «The Iceberg? Of course not. You know what the Ixilan are like. He doesn’t care what any of us do. Besides, what would you do, perform a forgiveness ritual? He wouldn’t even understand what it meant.»

My hair stood on end as if I’d been electrified. «Vetifer! That’s it! You’ve solved it!» I began to peel away from Vetifer.

«Mertil!» Vetifer cried, his stalk eyes following me. «What are you talking about?»

«You’re right,» I said as I trotted away. «He wouldn’t understand what our forgiveness ritual means. Which is why I have to find out how an _Ixilan_ would seek forgiveness!»

**IV.**

At first, I intended to find out about Ixilan forgiveness rituals at the academy library. But when I searched the library, I learned many strange things about the Ixilan (that they did not allow their _vecols_ the dignity of seclusion; that they still used their ancient longboats for ceremonies) but nothing about forgiveness rituals. The only rituals described in the reference books were public ones, and I came to realize that this was because none of it was written by the Ixilan themselves, but by visitors to their islands.

«I suppose I must ask Gafinilan himself,» I said to myself. I knew it would not be easy. But it was even harder than I thought. Gafinilan did not attend driftball matches or cloud appreciations. He did not feed with other students. I had to search for him in the directory to find his scoop on academy grounds. I thumped the visitor’s drum at his scoop’s entrance and waited outside with my tail low. One of Gafinilan’s scoopmates eyed me as he entered, but I did not ask him to fetch Gafinilan. This was between the two of us.

I saw Gafinilan come up from behind me; he had not been home, after all. He was wet, presumably from the academy baths. For once, he smelled not like his oil, but like military-issue soap. His long fur was plastered down to his skin, showing the definition of all his muscles. I stared and tried not to imagine him scrubbing himself down in the baths in front of a dozen other _arisths_.

« _Aristh_ Mertil,» Gafinilan said, very neutrally.

I startled. I was gawping at him again. This was unacceptable. I said, « _Aristh_ Gafinilan, I have not done right by you. I wish to make amends.»

«Think nothing of it,» Gafinilan said. «Let us not speak to each other again and move on.»

My hearts burned. I turned so I could meet his main eyes with mine. «Do not forgive me because it is convenient. Forgive me because I have done what I must to make it right.» I gestured northward with my arms, in the direction of his homeland. «How would you expect a fellow Ixilan to rectify this situation?»

Gafinilan’s stalk eyes stretched upward in surprise. «I do not think this would ever have occurred on the islands in the first place. Ixilan do not duel.» When I deflated in defeat, Gafinilan said, «Still, I will consider. Run with me.»

He took off, watching me catch up behind him with his stalk eyes. I had to run a little harder to keep up with his long strides. We found our rhythm, taking in grass up our legs, and I felt a deep tranquility. It was so much better to run together than alone. Even though we lived now in the gentle times, with the hunters defeated and the blue grass growing everywhere under the sun, the instincts of my wandering ancestors told me that alone was dangerous, and the herd was safe.

Finally, Gafinilan said, «Before you apologize, I would like you to know what I would have you apologize for.» He waited for my fingers to spread in acceptance before going on. «Ixilan do not duel because for us, the choice of violence is too great a burden to place on one Andalite’s tail. It must always be collective. If a sea creature attacks the longboat, we fight it together. In the last age, when we raided the northern shores, we fought together. If someone commits a terrible crime, we stop the criminal together.» The fields grew marshy, and the soil squished and splashed beneath our hooves as we ran through harsh-edged swamp-grass. I leapt carefully from one hummock of swamp-grass to another, trying to avoid the marshy areas. Gafinilan did not turn aside to avoid the wetland, even though he had just bathed. «There is only one time and one place when it is acceptable for an Ixilan alone to raise a blade to another, and that is in the sacred space of the tail-fighting class, for the purpose of teaching. Only a reckless, untrained child would attack alone outside that space.»

We returned to higher, drier ground, Gafinilan well ahead of me, his hooves caked in a thin layer of mud. I put on a burst of speed to catch up. «Even in my culture, my actions have been unacceptable,» I admitted. «A duel must have a just cause. As restitution for a terrible crime, for example.» The stories-to-come about Gallop-hearts served as a warning of what happened when duels were fought for no good reason. «I suspect the only reason I have not been punished is because our instructors view you as a barbarian who may have given me just cause. But we both know that is not true.»

«I knew that was not true,» Gafinilan said. «I did not realize you did.»

I was not yet entirely sure that Gafinilan was not a barbarian. But I was sure he had done nothing to provoke my pride. I had done that all by myself. «I do. And I am sorry.» I did not know what else to say, so I weaved a gentle, tentative _djafid_ around myself with my thought-speech.

Gafinilan’s run slowed. His fur was drying in patches, starting to stand back up into his usual pale fluff. «You are a talented _djafid_ -singer. I feel… I feel as if you are beckoning to me with this song.»

«Not talented,» I said, abashed. «Well-practiced. I am in the academy _djafid_ choir. Perhaps you should attend some academy events, _Aristh_ Gafinilan. You may find some of them worthwhile.» And with that, I peeled away toward my own scoop.

**V.**

The first time Gafinilan attended one of my choral performances, I swayed on my hooves with nerves and excitement. It was a welcome home for warriors coming back from the Taxxon homeworld. Taxxons were the latest species to join the Yeerk Empire, this one voluntarily. The choir sang for them _djafid_ of peace and safety, to help ease their transition back to everyday life. He did not stay afterward, but he stopped me after piloting class to tell me he had enjoyed it. I floated on the high of that compliment so noticeably that Vetifer grouchily asked me later how I had managed to smuggle in _illsipar_ root.

The second time, I found him after the concert, cornered by one of the administrative staff of the academy. «I’ve never heard of Estrif,» said the secretary. «Where is it?»

«I would prefer not to discuss the origins of my name,» Gafinilan said stiffly.

«I can look up Estrif in a name-atlas the moment this conversation is over,» the secretary said, «so you may as well tell me about your _djesculi_ now.»

I made my approach and glowered at him with my main eyes, pointing a questioning stalk eye at Gafinilan. Gafinilan said, very calmly, «You will not find Estrif in a name-atlas. The Ixilan do not share your naming customs, so I had to fabricate a name that would fit the name format in the academy enrollment form.»

«You _fabricated a name_?» the secretary said, tail twitching. «Falsification of enrollment papers is a very serious offense, _Aristh_ Gafinilan.»

I tried my best to hide my guilty start. I was a model student – there would of course be no reason for me to react in such a way.

«I hardly had a choice,» Gafinilan said, still calm. «The enrollment form demanded a _djesculi_ and a _schwescor_ when I bear neither designation.»

A full-body sneer. «You are a liar as well as a barbarian. We should have expected no less.»

«Gafinilan,» I said in private thought-speak. «Two Andalites may declare a challenge together, if both have had their honor tainted. If you do not raise your tail alone, is this acceptable to you?»

Gafinilan’s main eyes widened. He pointed a stalk eye at me. He paused, then said, «Yes. So long as it is only a duel to first blood.»

I raised my tail high and glared at the secretary with my main eyes. «What is your name?» I demanded, bringing the full force of my _djafid_ to bear, weaving a thought-speech aura of fierce pride.

The secretary stiffened. «Orimir-Altan-Sorrall.»

«Orimir-Altan-Sorrall, I am Mertil-Iscar-Elmand,» I said in public thought-speech. I saw his eye-stalks crook at the name and glowed with satisfaction. «You have besmirched the honor and good name of my _shorm_ , and thereby have besmirched my good name as well. Apologize, or stand against us both.»

That drew the attention of every Andalite nearby. Stalk eyes pointed our way from other conversations among the concert-goers.

«Mertil-Iscar-Elmand,» Orimir said slowly, weighing the deep history of the _djesculi_ and the _schwescor_. «This Ixilan is your _shorm_?»

I curved my tail so the blade was between Orimir and Gafinilan. «Yes.»

Orimir lowered his tail and scuffed his forehoof along the ground. «Then I apologize. Surely any _shorm_ of yours must be of good character.»

I glared. «Apologize to him, not to me.»

Reluctantly, Orimir met Gafinilan’s main eyes with his own. «I apologize, _Aristh_ Gafinilan. I should not have branded you a liar.»

«You must accept his apology or the challenge will still be active,» I told Gafinilan privately.

«Apology accepted,» said Gafinilan, and Orimir left the concert valley with great haste.

«Mertil,» Gafinilan said. «I have heard people here say _shorm_ before. It seems to have powerful feelings of connection, but also a sense-impression of a tail blade. Could you explain it to me?»

My hearts beat _djabala_ -quick in mortification. Not only had I falsely claimed Gafinilan as my _shorm_ in a public place, but now I had to explain my actions. «A _shorm_ is the deepest of friends. The one for whom you feel _shest valeet_ , the love that pierces through darkness like moonlight and reveals one’s true nature to another.» Gafinilan’s eye-stalks stretched up as far as they would go, but he did not raise his tail in anger, as I might have feared. «It has the meaning of a tail blade because a _shorm_ is someone who could hold his tail blade to your throat, and you would not even feel an instant of fear.» I imagined how I would feel if Gafinilan held his blade to my throat. I would feel fear, yes, but also a thrill of excitement.

Gafinilan recoiled as if I had thrown a dead animal at his hooves. «Who would ever place his tail blade at the throat of his truest friend? The very idea is repulsive.»

I blinked slowly. «That is exactly the point. If your _shorm_ has placed his tail blade at your throat, then he must have a very good reason. He does so with only your best interest in mind. Perhaps to teach you a lesson in tail-fighting. Or to stop you from some action you may regret.»

Gafinilan shuddered. «It is still a disturbing image to associate with such an intimate connection.» His main eyes snapped to focus on mine. «Why did you claim this relationship with me?»

I turned all my eyes but a single stalk away from him. «It was the only way for us to challenge him jointly. For an insult to your name to be an insult to mine, you must be an intimate relation. A brother, a cousin, a spouse – or a _shorm_. It was the only one that could have possibly fit.»

Gafinilan’s stalk eyes swept the assortment of recent war veterans, _djafid_ choristers, and casual concert-goers in the concert valley. «This entire herd must have heard you,» he said in disbelief.

«I am sorry!» I said, miserably returning my main eyes to look at him. I curled my tail defensively around myself. «We can put it about that we have had a falling out and are no longer _shorms_.»

«You would bind your reputation so closely to mine,» Gafinilan said slowly. «In an instant, without even stopping to think, to defend my honor. All because your culture’s concept of a one-on-one duel is unacceptable to me. No, Mertil. Let them gossip all they like. I do not like this word _shorm_. But I am not ashamed to be associated with you.»

I wanted to break out into _djafid_ again. I wanted to show him how beautiful he was in my eyes, how humble and unbreakable, like a rock tumbled smooth by the river’s many currents. But what reasons could he have to return my love, when I had only just begun to pay him the respect he deserved? And how could I ever have a _shorm_ in truth, when I bore a terrible secret I must take to my grave?

**VI.**

My suspicions had been correct. My first stop for my mid-term break was to Elmand to visit Dana Korra, who had still not bloomed but murmured sweetly to my lovelorn hearts. My second stop was Langor to see my parents, and the moment I arrived at their new scoop, they demanded to know why I had chosen an Ixilan for my _shorm_. Not that they were so crass as to ask directly. No, instead it was Father’s burbling excitement about how I was so grown-up to have a _shorm_ of my own, and Mother’s sideways comments about how I had made «an unusual choice.»

All I could say was, «He is the most noble of my classmates, and I am honored by his trust.» I could never lie to my parents, but I could avoid the truth: that Gafinilan would never call me his _shorm_ , whatever I had claimed after the _djafid_ concert.

Father took me aside after Mother’s excited tour of their new rock gardens. «You haven’t been _indiscreet_ with this _shorm_ of yours, have you?»

I rushed to reassure her. «No, Father! I can keep quiet, I promise.»

After that, it was a whirlwind of introductions to the neighbors, especially to the neighbors’ young sons. One of them was a cadet at the intelligence academy, full of sharp observations about the state of the war, and already as familiar with secrets and discretion as I was. I told my parents I liked him, and a formal courtship was set into motion.

Gafinilan took me aside after the computing class we had together. «You seem reduced from your usual high spirits, Mertil. What troubles you?»

I was so pleased that Gafinilan had initiated a conversation with me that my high spirits were nearly restored. I noticed elaborate swirls of dark dye along Gafinilan’s pale flanks. «Oh! Look at that! It suits you well. Did you return to the islands during your break?» I said, not caring how obvious it was that I was changing the subject.

«Thank you. Yes, I did,» Gafinilan said placidly. «My older cousin marked me this way, to show my progress in my studies.»

«Your mother and father must be very proud of you,» I said.

Gafinilan’s eyes slid away from me, embarrassed. «I have heard Andalites here use these two separate words for parents – “mother” and “father” – but I am not entirely sure of the distinction.»

I boggled at him. «You do not have terms for which parent pouches the children and which does not? That is what mother and father mean.»

Gafinilan boggled back, though with more dignity, I was sure. « _All_ parents may pouch the children. Surely you must know that an infant can be transferred from pouch to pouch when it is old enough.»

«Yes,» I spluttered, «but only in the most dire medical emergency! The sudden change of environment is traumatizing!»

Gafinilan curled in his fingers in a “maybe” gesture. «The infant may be upset at first, yes. But it is well worth the disturbance to more evenly distribute the burden of pouching among parents. Do you mean to say that in the Great Gardens, all of your “mothers” must pouch _alone_ for a year?»

«Fathers help in their own way,» I protested, thinking of my own father and how she had taken on Mother’s domestic duties during my pouching.

Gafinilan’s pale green eyes sharpened on me. «You have avoided my question for long enough. What is the matter?»

I lowered my tail in defeat. «I have upcoming compatibility trials with a suitor. I worry I will not pass muster.»

«A suitor to be your spouse,» Gafinilan said, half a question. I spread my fingers in agreement, and he went on. «Why do you need these… compatibility trials?»

«To determine if we have _shest orf_ ,» I said. «The kind of loving bond that is needed to form the foundation of a household.»

«You have met this person, and you like each other,» Gafinilan said, testing the waters again. I spread my fingers again, and he said, «Then can you not spend time together and find your _shest orf_ that way?»

«I enjoy the company of my friend Vetifer,» I said, though that had become less true since I had declared Gafinilan my _shorm_ – Vetifer’s behavior had not substantively changed, but he avoided talking about Gafinilan, as if the subject discomfited him. «But that does not mean we could live well together long-term, or that we could be parents together. There are established methods to predict that kind of compatibility.»

«If that is so,» said Gafinilan, though he did not sound convinced, «then the outcome of the trials has no bearing on your possible value as a husband and parent, only on whether you can be a husband to this one Andalite. Therefore, you should stand secure in the knowledge that you can one day form a household, even if it is not the one you may have imagined with this person.»

«You make it sound so easy,» I said, waving my tail dramatically. «Serenity does not come to all of us as readily as it comes to you, Gafinilan.» Not to mention that it was easier to imagine oneself thriving in a happy household when one did not have secrets that must be hidden even from a spouse and children.

«Serenity does not come to me readily,» Gafinilan said. «I learned it with great effort from my older cousin. I still work to maintain it every day. It is a skill you might learn, too.»

«Could you teach me?» I said. I did not think I would succeed at it, but oh, any excuse to be close to Gafinilan, any reason to learn how he had become as noble as Steady-steps.

«I am no master at it yet,» Gafinilan said. «But I can pass on what little I have learned.»

**VII.**

My communicator pinged on my belt. «Have you remembered to bring all the components?» Gafinilan said.

I smacked my forearms together in a sarcastic gesture Gafinilan could not see through the communicator. «Yes, elder cousin,» I said in the same way I might have with one of my real older cousins. At least the Ixilan had cousins, too, so Gafinilan would catch the joke. I picked up the heavy box with my tail and twisted around to strap it to my back, then ran toward Gafinilan’s scoop.

I found him behind his scoop at a pleasing rock formation: an outcropping at the fast-moving side of a crook in a stream. On the rock, Gafinilan was working with some kind of small plant in a clay planter. He caught me in a sweep of his stalk eye and followed my approach while keeping his main eyes on the plant.

When I heard the murmur of the stream going by, I relaxed deeply, despite my nerves about seeing Gafinilan again. I unstrapped the box from my back and laid it on the rock. «Hello, Gafinilan,» I said, and then I saw the plant.

If I had still been holding the box, I would have dropped it. The plant was clearly a cutting from a tree, but it had tiny branches of its own emerging from the stem in a tight spiral. It would have looked like a tree in miniature if the stem weren’t still a smooth vivid blue instead of the rough protective covering of a tree trunk. Gafinilan held a pair of tiny pruning shears in one large hand, and there was a sprinkling of small leaves in the soil around the plant.

Astonished, I said, «By the lost Gardens, what is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.»

Gafinilan lifted his main eyes from the plant to me. «It is a cutting from Theresh, my Guide Tree. On the islands, we practice an art called _uruthoul_. It is the practice of pruning and cultivating a cutting from a Guide Tree so that it grows to be the Tree in miniature. In this way, our ancestors could take their Guide Trees on the longboats with them.»

«It is beautiful,» I said, utterly awed, and Gafinilan smiled at me. Smiled! It made his pale, fuzzy face glow like a cloud in sunlight.

«It is only a young cutting,» Gafinilan said humbly. «It has not found its voice yet. I have only been cultivating it for a year. Hopefully soon the stem and branches will harden, and I will be able to wire them into more pleasing shapes. I am excited for the day it finally flowers – for now, I must bring Theresh’s vital oils with me from the islands to the academy. And of course, I am excited to hear Theresh’s voice in miniature. Guide Trees roar, but _uruthoul_ trees whisper.»

«Oh,» I said. «That is where your perfume comes from. It’s a reminder of home.» Gafinilan spread his fingers in agreement, and I felt a stab of anger at the other _arisths_ who called him Stinker for the cloud of woody scent that surrounded him. Then I felt another stab to the hearts, this time of excitement. «But Gafinilan! How does the military not know about this art? Could you not circumvent the cycle of _galan maheet_ with this miniature Tree? It would no longer be necessary to make regular pilgrimages to one’s own Guide Tree, would it, if you had this with you? It would be of great comfort to warriors on long space voyages.»

«As I understand it,» Gafinilan said, «there are a few scientists of the Great Gardens researching the matter, but nothing has yet been proven to their satisfaction.»

«What?» I said, outraged. «But this is an astounding innovation!»

«The military research division,» Gafinilan said, «is not generally of the opinion that the Ixilan have much to offer in the way of innovation.» When I puffed up with outrage again, Gafinilan said, «Pay it no mind, Mertil. We are not here to discuss the position of my people in your society. We are here to learn about the practice of serenity. For me, _uruthoul_ is central to that practice. Patience and focus are essential. Your first step is to blend the soil mix.»

I felt like I might faint and fall into the stream. «You wish to teach me this art. You – you want me to have a miniature of Dana Korra, like you do of Theresh.»

«I cannot guarantee success,» Gafinilan said gently. «I am no master of _uruthoul_ , and your Guide Trees are of a different species than ours on the islands. But I would like to try to share this with you, yes.» 

I straightened to attention. «You honor me. I will do my very best.»

Gafinilan smiled again. A breeze rustled the long needles of the _nornos_ trees overhead, and wafted toward me the scent of the oil he wore, that I now knew came from his Guide Tree. I breathed it in deeply, flaring my nostrils. I loved him so much I could hardly bear it. «First you must sift the dust from the clay. There must not be any tiny particles in the soil. There must be open pockets for good drainage.»

«Forgive me, but what does this have to do with serenity?» I said, as I fumbled for the sifter he had asked me to bring.

«Be present in your senses as you sift. Watch the dust fall away from the sifter. Smell the clay. Feel the particles run through your fingers. Listen to the sound of them as they flow.»

I tried to do as he asked, though my senses were aware of much more than just the clay. My stalk eyes were fixed on Gafinilan as he carefully pruned leaves, one by one, from the top of his miniature Guide Tree. He was so precise, always trying a few different angles with the pruning shears before deciding which one was best. And he was right about the species of his Guide Tree – it was like none I had seen before, even aside from the matter of its astonishing size. The leaves on the tiny, spiraling branches seemed to have a pale fuzz, just like Gafinilan himself. I wondered what Theresh, full-sized, looked like. Would Gafinilan ever take me to meet her? Surely not. The Ixilan were notoriously insular.

«I am trying to be present with the clay, but I keep thinking of other things,» I admitted. «Also, I believe I have sifted out all the dust.»

«It is natural for the mind to wander,» Gafinilan said. «Try repeating a few words in your mind to focus yourself. Or perhaps in your case, some _djafid_. Add the softstone now, and mix it well.»

I took Gafinilan’s advice and tried idly threading _djafid_ as I worked. I barely paid attention to it, just allowed it to spool out of me as I sifted together the softstone and the dried clay. I added the lava rock next, feeling its rough edges on my palm.

After a time, I looked to Gafinilan, almost dreamily, and found him already looking at me. «Gafinilan,» I said. «You told Orimir-Altan-Sorrall that Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad was a formality you produced for the enrollment forms. What is your true name, then?»

«My name is Gafinilan of Theresh. My people would call you Mertil of Dana Korra.» He inspected my well-mixed planter substrate. «It is ready for one of her cuttings, I think.» A stalk eye met one of mine. «Do you feel better about your compatibility trial?»

I knew the serenity of the moment would not last. But if I had Gafinilan, even just as a friend, I thought I could bear it even if I never found the right husband. «Thank you, Gafinilan. I do.»

**VIII.**

The compatibility trials with the intelligence cadet did not work out, nor did those with a newly minted warrior home on shore leave. I made my peace with it. I had my secret love for Gafinilan and the time we spent together, and for now, that was enough, even if my parents wanted more for me. Even if, from time to time, I dreamed of more for myself.

The most anticipated event of the second term was the survival exercise on Erathli. We had taken classes on how to survive when stranded in enemy territory, and for the exercise we were flown to the large oceanic moon and deposited in pairs at random points with only a motorized boat, and that only half-fueled. I hadn’t dared hope I would be paired with Gafinilan for the exercise, but I found him in the hangar of the space shuttle with our assigned motor-skiff, ready for landing.

«This is my first time off-world,» Gafinilan said, eyes alight with excitement.

«It is mine as well,» I admitted. Boarding the freight ship to Erathli had been terribly exciting, though I tried to appear unimpressed and aloof to my classmates.

«Do not worry about the exercise,» Gafinilan said. «I have piloted a longboat before.»

Indeed, Gafinilan proved very competent in the motor-skiff, easily navigating the currents and changes in sea depth. My only real usefulness on the expedition was identifying which sea-weeds in the shallows we could collect for food. The weeds proved tough and rubbery, but edible. I only began to worry when I saw a disturbance in the water, distinct from the wake of the motor-skiff or the natural rhythm of the waves. «Gafinilan,» I said, «what is that? An undertow?»

Gafinilan’s stalk-eyes focused on it. «No. It is coming toward us.» He steered the boat away from the strange vortices in the water. But they kept coming toward us, and they were _fast_.

«It’s catching up to us!» I cried.

«I cannot go any faster,» Gafinilan said, «or we will drain our fuel entirely. It is still half a day’s journey to the rendezvous point at our current pace.»

«We can use our signal flare,» I said desperately.

«And fail the assignment? Perhaps you can afford to fail, Mertil, but I cannot.» Gafinilan determinedly turned the skiff, a sharp pin meant to throw our strange pursuer off track. But it waited until we were set on our new course, and resumed its movement through the water. I could hear it now, a loud bubbling noise. And I suddenly knew what it was.

«Mardrut!» I cried. «It’s a predator! It’s hunting us!»

WHAM! CRASH!

Dark green water everywhere. Burning pain in my leg. Sea-weeds tangled around my tail. The overturned motor-skiff blocking out the sun. The vast purple-red bulk of the mardrut looming in the water. And Gafinilan, oriented in perfect swimming form, his tail like a rudder behind him.

«On three, we attack,» Gafinilan said. «Three.»

My leg throbbed and leaked a trail of blood in the water. When I kicked toward the mardrut, agony.

«Two. _One_!»

Gafinilan attacked the mardrut with explosive force, a long blue arrow aimed at the predator. I flailed toward it and twisted at the last moment to bring my tail to bear. Black blood gushed from the wound I tore in its side. Gafinilan got it in one of its air sacs, releasing a giant bubble toward the surface. The mardrut twirled away in the water, unbalanced. I burst toward the surface, gulping in air and shaking with pain and cold. I held onto the back of the overturned boat and caught my breath. Gafinilan came up beside me.

«You are a skilled swimmer,» I said, a little dizzy.

«Ixilan children swim almost before they walk,» Gafinilan said. «Mertil, let go so I can overturn the boat. You need to rest.»

Reluctantly, I let go of the boat, which meant I had to resume kicking my legs to swim. I held my injured leg slack and tried to help Gafinilan push the boat over with our tails, but my efforts were weak as an infant’s next to his. Gafinilan surged out of the water into the righted boat, then held out his tail into the water. I wrapped my tail around his, and he hauled me back into the motor-skiff. I collapsed on my side on the waterlogged deck of the boat and assessed the damage while Gafinilan checked the boat’s engines. Judging by the angle of my right front leg, it was almost certainly broken. I reached automatically for the medkit on my belt, only to find it gone, along with my communicator.

«Gafinilan,» I said, panic constricting my legs. «Gafinilan, I lost my medkit. I need to get back in the water and find it!»

Gafinilan looked over my leg with his stalk eyes while he pulled weeds out of the engine intakes. «Not to worry. I still have mine.»

«No,» I said, starting to stir to my feet. «No, you don’t understand! I need my medkit!»

Gafinilan lurched toward me. «Mertil, no! Don’t get up!»

«I need it! Let me get it!»

«Mertil, be still. My medkit is identical to yours. They were both issued to us by the academy quartermaster.»

«No, it’s _not_!» I cried. I didn’t want to say another word, but my medkit could be sinking to the seafloor at that very moment, and I could feel my chances of survival sinking with it. «I bring my own medkits everywhere because the academy’s could kill me. Now, _please_ , Gafinilan, let me go find it!»

Gafinilan cut the air with his tail in denial. «No! No, rest easy, Mertil. I will retrieve it for you, if it can be found.» And he leapt gracefully over the edge of the boat, back into the water.

The boat rocked at the loss of his weight. I lay on the deck and soaked in cold, dirty water and despair. Gafinilan would come back, and he would have questions to which I owed him answers. He had just saved my life twice over. I could only hope he would choose not to ruin my reputation and end my freedom.

Gafinilan pulled himself back into the boat with his tail, sending a fresh wave of water over the deck. He was holding a medkit that appeared identical to his, but inside, I knew it was not. «I found it tangled in weeds,» he said. «Let me see to your leg.»

«You will not be familiar with my medkit,» I said miserably. «It is non-standard. And please, drain the water from the skiff first. I can feel saltwater in the wound.»

«Explain your medkit to me while I bail out the water,» Gafinilan said stubbornly, activating the pump at the rear of the boat to drain the water. «I will not leave you to tend your injury by yourself.»

My anger snapped. «I am not some helpless _vecol_! I am _not_!» I subsided. Gafinilan had done nothing but help me, and shouting at him would not help my case. «My immune system is overactive. I have a wide range of severe allergies, including to the nanobots in standard medkits. I brought a custom medkit that contains drugs to which I am not allergic.» I opened my medkit, fumbled for painkillers, and injected an ampoule into the base of my leg. I sagged with relief as numbness spread down the broken limb, and the cold saltwater drained away.

When the deck was as dry as it would get, Gafinilan returned to my side and searched through my medkit, keeping a stalk eye on me. « _Vecol_. This concept you have in the Great Gardens is so ugly. When you say it, I receive the impression of a dying branch cut away from a healthy tree. Pruning, as if the removal of a _vecol_ from society improves its growth.»

«I read somewhere that the Ixilan do not isolate your _vecols_ ,» I said. Bitterly, I added, «What would you do with me, then?»

He found a spray canister of wound sealant and sprayed it over my leg, a cold tickle over my skin. As the sealant set and hardened, Gafinilan locked his tail blade with mine, and his main eyes with mine, as tightly as if I might drift away into space if he did not. «I do not believe you are a _vecol_.» The image of the branch pruned from the tree burned bitterly in his thought-speech. «But perhaps you are _tzeraf._ Like me.»

 _Tzeraf._ I had never heard this word. When Gafinilan said it, it felt like it meant “shattered.” But not shattered like a window struck by a stone, or a ship crash-landing on a desolate moon. No, he meant shattered like chains from a freed prisoner. He meant shattered like an egg hatching.

« _Tzeraf_ ,» I repeated, as Gafinilan injected another ampoule into my leg. «What does it mean?»

«It is the Ixilan term for people like me,» Gafinilan said. «Those of us whose bodies bring us pain and difficulty. Our experiences give us insight. It is we who discover new ways to live in this world of suffering and limitation.»

«People like _you_?» I said, disbelieving.

«Soola’s disease is more common among the Ixilan than any other group,» Gafinilan said distantly, rummaging through the medkit again. «We have our own testing center for it. The testing center does not share its medical records with any institution off the islands, so the academy is none the wiser. In your case, you must have gone to great effort to conceal yourself.»

A wave of sadness washed over me, so terrible that it made me cry out in the way that the physical pain could not. Soola’s disease. Deadly, degenerative, incurable. Beautiful, noble Gafinilan, who deserved a lifetime to swim and fight and prune his _uruthoul_ tree, would die in what should have been the prime of his life. I had long ago made peace with the fact that my allergies would likely kill me in my line of military duty. But for Gafinilan to die this way? That I could not accept with grace.

Gafinilan must have thought I had cried out in physical pain. He opened a foil-wrapped dish of medicine and held my left front hoof in the liquid. «Drink. It will help you rest.»

I did not open my hoof. I studied his face. «So this is why you’re here. I had wondered.»

«I am here because of our survival exercise,» Gafinilan said.

«Don’t pretend to be stupid,» I snapped. «I meant, this is why you enlisted in the academy, even though most of your classmates and instructors despise you.»

«No,» Gafinilan said. «That is not why. _Tzeraf_ have a respected place in my society. My older cousin, the _tzeraf_ who taught me the practice of serenity, begged me to stay. So did the rest of my clan. I exercised my right of refusal and left for the academy all the same. Not because I feel obligated to fight your war against the Yeerks. It is because I hope that if I give my life for your cause, you might finally begin to respect my people.»

«Gafinilan,» I said, pressing my tail blade back into his. «My _shorm_.» I did not give the word its usual sense-impression of his blade at my throat, but instead an impression of his tail blade cutting into the mardrut, his noble battle to defend me from harm. «You do not need to give your life for anyone or anything for me to respect you or your people. I respect you for the way you _live_ , not for the way you may die.»

«You do,» Gafinilan agreed, his eyes very soft. He smoothed a single finger around the edge of my main eye, wiping the saltwater away, a shivering blade’s edge of a kiss. «If only I could say the same for the rest of your people. Now, _drink._ »

I opened my hoof and let the medicine flow up my leg. «I am not a _vecol_ ,» I said again. «You won’t tell anyone that I am, will you?»

«Of course not,» Gafinilan said gently. «That would be a lie. I would never say that. Just as you would not say so about me.»

I felt myself lulled by the swaying deck of the ship, my main eyes slowly drooping shut. «No. You are _tzeraf._ And if you are, then – perhaps it is all right if I am _tzeraf_ too.»

**IX.**

Gafinilan came to visit me as I convalesced at my scoop, and I told him everything he wanted to know. How I had managed to hide my condition all my life (my family was well-connected and had access to a discreet doctor who paid home visits). What I planned to do when it was time for us to gain the morphing power (I would touch the Escafil Device without focusing my mind on it; unactivated, the device’s nanobots would not trigger my allergies). Whether I had planned to tell any of my potential husbands (I hadn’t, which was why my parents matched me only with males; we would need an egg donor to reproduce, so I could avoid passing on my disorder). Why I had enlisted when I was so vulnerable to injury or death in combat (I felt it was the only honorable path).

He also answered my questions for him: how long he had known about his Soola’s disease (as long as he could remember), whether he planned to have children (he wasn’t sure yet, but his people would allow him to do so, even if he was not well enough to pouch), what was expected of _tzeraf_ (to provide spiritual guidance to their clans).

«I do not believe I could bear such responsibility,» I told him. «If I should be permanently injured in the line of duty, then I will live in a _vecol_ ’s seclusion, where no one will expect anything more of me.»

«You have never seen a _tzeraf_ in action,» Gafinilan said. «I never completed my education. Perhaps you would be good at it.»

«I would like to see,» I said. «May I come visit?»

«If it were only up to me, I would say yes. But permission for outsiders to visit the islands is not easily granted. I can sponsor your petition for a visa, at the least.» Gafinilan held my leg, helped me flex it so I could regain my full range of motion. «Our next term break is too short to justify a trip back to the islands. May I visit your home, Mertil?»

I was stunned that he would even ask. «Yes. Yes, of course.»

I worried about my parents’ reaction to this request, given their previous confusion about my Ixilan _shorm_ , but they received it with no surprise or concern. «Our gossip networks are _buzzing_ with the news, Mertil,» Father said. «Two young _shorms_ , _arisths_ on an academy assignment, one the very first Ixilan at the academy, fought off a mardrut together? The journalists will find you soon, mark my words.»

«By all means, bring your noble rescuer,» Mother said, a little teasing, and I knew it would be all right.

Langor was far away from the academy, but there were frequent shuttles between. On our term break, Gafinilan and I traveled together. We transferred from the shuttle to the hover-train, and my parents waited for us at the station. Gafinilan bent his front knees before them and said, «I am Mertil’s _shorm_ , Gafinilan of Theresh.» When he said _shorm_ , it had the sense-impression not of my blade at his throat, but my blade raised in challenge at Orimir the bully, defending his honor. I swayed on my hooves. Gafinilan had called me his _shorm_!

Gafinilan admired Mother’s carefully raked rock garden. He listened intently as Father showed off her newest robotic engineering project. He ran with us through the scrubby grass to feed. Afterward, when my parents asked to speak with me alone, I said, «If you wish to discuss my medical condition, you may do so openly. Gafinilan knows.»

My parents startled. Mother’s tail rose as if in threat, and Father’s stalk eyes jerked toward Gafinilan. «Mertil!» she cried. «We swore to keep this a secret between us and your doctor!»

«Gonthil, Anthrel,» Gafinilan said evenly. «I understand the importance of secrecy in this matter. I myself have Soola’s disease.»

Silence reigned in the scoop. I curved my tail around Gafinilan, inscribing him in a circle of my protection. Finally, Mother said quietly, «I had wondered if we were the first family to trick the academy into enrolling a son they would not normally accept. Evidently not.»

«It is not a trick,» Gafinilan said. «It is… withholding information that should be none of their concern.»

Father smiled. «I like the way you think, Gafinilan of Theresh.» She looked to Mother with her main eyes. «Perhaps it is a good thing after all that Mertil chose this unusual _shorm_ for himself.» Mother studied Gafinilan, then smiled back in silent agreement.

Gafinilan is very practiced in disguising his true feelings, but I could somehow sense that he did not like to be called “unusual” by my father. Still, I could feel nothing but relief. My parents had accepted Gafinilan. Whatever our differences, whatever the world thought of us, my parents would allow me to define this, the most essential relationship I had outside our family bond.

When we were done with our visit to my parents’ scoop in Langor, we had one more stop on our way back to the academy. Instead of heading south from the shuttleport after our flight back, we took the train north to Elmand.

The grove was as dark and sheltering as it always was, the trees closing and interlocking into a canopy that filtered out most of the sun. But there was one thing in the grove that was startlingly new. When we approached my Guide Tree, Dana Korra, her branches were ablaze with clusters of orange flowers, striped with yellow and red. I pressed a hand to her trunk and looked up at her glory in silent awe. I felt the beginnings of a word forming inside her, but her thought-speech was slow, and it was not ready to emerge.

«She is like fire,» Gafinilan said, hushed. «You have not seen her bloom before.»

«No,» I said, not asking how he knew.

«Your people must have a ritual for this occasion,» Gafinilan said.

«We do,» I said. «But I would rather do yours.»

Gafinilan’s pale green eyes were huge in his face. «You are sure?»

«If you invite me to take part, then yes.» I found a bright flower that had fallen to the forest floor. I picked it up on the flat of my blade, transferred it to my hand, and moved toward Gafinilan. He stared at the flower with all of his eyes, burning against the cool blood-blue of my hand. «I love you for who you are. For what you believe in. I honor you with all that I am.» I tucked the flower behind his ear, and let my hand linger in a gentle kiss to his cheek. The delicate smell of Dana Korra’s flower melded with the incense scent of Theresh he rubbed into his fur every day.

«Then take out your planter,» Gafinilan said, glowing with a smile.

I reached into my pack and removed the planter. I took off the cover, revealing the soil I’d so carefully mixed at Gafinilan’s instruction.

Gafinilan pointed with his blade at a branch the length of my forearm. «Cut down this branch. Cut at a 45-degree angle.»

I touched Dana Korra’s trunk and said, «Dana Korra, I am doing this to make a tiny twin of you. It is not meant to wound.» The word she wanted to speak kept forming, like waves beating a new shape into a beach. I reached up with my tail and carefully cut the branch down. I caught it in my arms when it fell.

«Trim the leaves from the bottom part,» Gafinilan said, and I held the branch from the top so I could carefully trim the bottom. «Now bury it in the soil. Make a hill around the bottom to keep it stable.»

I planted the cutting. It looked like a branch that had fallen in a storm, nothing deliberate and cultivated like Gafinilan’s _uruthoul._ But I would care for it every day, like Gafinilan cared for his, and it would become something beautiful.

«I sense that Dana Korra has something to say,» Gafinilan said, looking up at her canopy with his stalk eyes. «Shall we wait here a while and find out what it is?»

I held out my hand. Gafinilan took it and held it between both of his. «Tell me about Theresh while we wait,» I said.

Gafinilan squeezed my hand between his. «Theresh is eight hundred and seven years old,» he said. «Before me, she was Guide Tree to Enshelar, a split-hearted _tzeraf_ who was known for their immense kindness, and for their love of long swims even in the coldest part of winter. Before Enshelar, she was Guide Tree to Bevea, a _tzeraf_ who helped write the current treaty between the Ixilan Islands and the Great Gardens. Before Bevea, she was Guide Tree to Umiac…»

On he went. Gafinilan’s knowledge of the long history of his Guide Tree ran astonishingly deep. As he spoke, he gave images, impressions, admiration, curiosity about his own history. He only stopped when Dana Korra’s word finally took shape in our minds:

«Someday.»

**Epilogue: Two Myths**

In the gentle times to come, when the hunters are defeated and the blue grass grows everywhere under the sun, the young Gallop-hearts will learn his lesson from the rebuke of his Guide Tree, but only for a time. The pride will always smolder in his hearts, perhaps banked, but ready to flare back to life at any moment.

Gallop-hearts’ younger cousin, Wide-eyes, will stir the embers back to flame. He will show her the power of his mighty blade, and she will challenge him to cut down the fruit ripening on the highest branch of his Guide Tree. Instead of teaching his younger cousin the wisdom of letting a Guide Tree fruit and flower and speak as she will, Gallop-hearts will bend his legs for a great leap. He will not even stop to ask his Guide Tree for her fruit. He will fly into the air, tail extended, and cleave the highest branch from the Tree.

Gallop-hearts will land first. Then the branch will crash down upon his tail, crushing it midway to the blade. It will shatter the bones beyond repair, deadening all feeling in the end of his tail, which will drag behind him, leaving a furrow in the ground. He will retreat to a _vecol_ ’s solitude, only able to visit his Guide Tree by night, when no other Andalite can look upon his shame. There in the dark, he will whisper his apologies to her, only then when it is far too late.

Early in the morning of our age, Balinoor served the people wisely and well as their _tzeraf_ for many years. Their reputation spread throughout the islands, and the people came on their longboats from the other end of the archipelago to hear their wisdom. But Balinoor grew weary.

One day, the chieftain of a far island came to Balinoor’s grotto, hoping they might solve a dispute among her people. She found a sign painted on paper-bark outside the grotto: _busy today, come back later._ But the urgency of the dispute back home drove the chieftain onward.

Inside, the chieftain found Balinoor feeding on the rich dark moss of their grotto. «Balinoor, honored _tzeraf_ ,» she said. «There is an urgent problem on my island, and I come seeking your advice.»

«I am sorry, chieftain,» Balinoor said, «but I cannot help you. You saw my sign outside.»

The chieftain’s hearts beat faster. «But Balinoor, you are the _tzeraf_! Your people need your insight! You cannot simply hide your light under a woven roof, the way the light was once hidden from us all, before you shattered it.»

«I grow weary,» Balinoor said, and, given pause, the chieftain noticed the way Balinoor’s partially paralyzed hindlegs dragged slowly and painfully as they fed, the way they held onto walls and stalagmites for support from time to time. «I have elderly parents who need my care. My _shorm_ rowed here to visit me, and I wish to enjoy her company while I have it. Chieftain, I refuse. Come another time, or go consult my younger cousin, the _tzeraf_ I have mentored.»

At the council of chieftains, Balinoor’s refusal was raised in the discussion. And so it was that the chieftains agreed to grant every _tzeraf_ the right of refusal, saying: Let them rest. Because we love them, let them rest.

**Author's Note:**

> References and inspirations:  
> \- The title and the myth of Balinoor were inspired by Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" and the Jewish mysticism encapsulated in the line "There is a crack in everything / That's how the light gets in."  
> \- The Ixilan attitude toward the disabled was inspired by the practices of real cultures like the Hmong and the Ndebele surrounding people with epilepsy. To learn more, I recommend the book _The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down._  
>  \- _Uruthoul_ is, of course, based on Japanese bonsai trees.


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